Sunset of the Gods

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO





The Temporal Regulatory Authority solemnly maintained that its enforcement arm was not even quasi-military in nature. And, for a fact, the Temporal Service had never been noted for military punctilio. Nevertheless, the two new members of the team rose to their feet into something resembling the position of attention when Mondrago called out “Attention on deck!” and Jason entered the briefing room. They knew his reputation in the Service, and that he held the permanent rank of Commander in the Hesperian Colonial Rangers, not exactly an ill-regarded outfit.

“As you were,” he said, studying the two as they resumed their seats. Like every officer who has ever led troops into battle, he would have liked to have had more of them. But he hadn’t dared to press his luck by demanding that more than four people be displaced such a vast—and correspondingly expensive—temporal “distance.” And he had to admit that, on short notice, it had been hard enough to find even two combat-trained people, not otherwise occupied, who possessed the particular qualifications required, including the ability to blend in fifth-century b.c. Greece. He didn’t really expect them to have to do any blending, but Rutherford had been adamant.

It was that very difficulty in finding suitable people that had led Jason to accept a woman, despite his misgivings in light of the social milieu into which they would be displaced. And he couldn’t quarrel with Pauline Da Cunha’s combat record—in fact, on further reflection he’d decided he was lucky to have her after all. She was wiry, deceptively small, and dark enough to require a cover story as a Hellenized native of Caria in Asia Minor.

Adam Logan was of average size (hence on the large side, where they were going) and unobtrusively muscular, with nondescript features and medium-brown hair and eyes. He was sufficiently unremarkable-looking to pass in a wide range of Caucasian-inhabited historical settings, which made him valuable to the Service. His quiet competence made him even more valuable.

“By now,” Jason began, “you’ve gone through all the preliminary procedures, including your microbiological ‘cleansing’ and the acquisition of the appropriate dialect of ancient Greek through direct neural induction.” Jason didn’t really expect them to be doing any hobnobbing with the locals on this expedition; it was just something else Rutherford had insisted on. “You have also received extensive orientation on the target milieu in general terms. This is in the nature of your actual mission briefing.

“You both volunteered on the strength of the highly classified information that was offered to you, including the involvement of the Teloi aliens. So you know that this mission is not our usual escort duty—nursemaiding teams of researchers. In fact, it’s unique in the history of the Service. This time we’re going up against illegal time travelers—a surviving cadre of Transhumanists, in fact.”

“That last part helped induce us to volunteer, sir,” said Da Cunha. Logan’s expression confirmed it.

“I know. I’m sure there would have been no lack of volunteers if we had put out a general call for them. We didn’t, partly due to security considerations but mostly because we could only use people with certain qualifications. We’re almost certainly going to be facing modern weapons, so we’ve obtained special permission to use such weapons ourselves. And you two are experts with those as well as with the various low-technology weapons we in the Service normally take with us into the past.”

“What kind of firepower are we going to be dealing with, sir?” asked Da Cunha, who clearly did the talking for this duo. “We’ve heard that you had some run-ins with these, uh, Teloi when you were in the Bronze Age.”

“The Teloi use rather low-powered neural paralyzers, designed to resemble heads—‘Heads of the Hydra’ they’re called—when dealing with the primitive local humans. For serious work, they have weapon-grade lasers; the only ones I saw were pistol-sized, so I can’t say whether or not they have anything heavier. As for the Transhumanists, I simply don’t know. I never encountered any of their stuff—I got the impression that they preferred to use the local stuff whenever possible, thus minimizing the chances of having some awkward explaining to do. But since they have no scruples about taking modern equipment, up to and including an aircar, back in time, we dare not assume that they didn’t take modern arms as well.”

Da Cunha spoke up again. “What about us, sir? We do have scruples. Surely we’ve had to give some thought to avoiding the possibility of our weapons being observed.”

That’s an understatement, thought Jason, recalling Rutherford’s jitters. “You are correct. A bit of forced-draft engineering was required. I had a hand in the design myself.” He reached out an arm, and Mondrago handed him what appeared to be a four-foot walking stick of the sort typically used by the ancient Greeks, perhaps a trifle stouter than most such sticks.

“You will note a row of small knobs along the shaft, about a foot from one end, appearing to be natural bumps on the wood. If you depress the forward one. . . .” He did so, and the far end of the “stick” flipped open and folded out into a set of focusing lenses about three inches in diameter.

“The basic mechanism is that of the standard Takashima laser carbine, but miniaturized and redesigned to fit into this shape. Like the standard Takashima, it functions in two modes: ‘kill’ and ‘stun.’ In the former mode, it is a weapon-grade laser; in the latter, the laser is powered down to a guide beam to ionize the air, along which an electrical charge is carried. These functions are activated by pressing the second and third knobs respectively. The fourth knob back is the actual trigger. The fifth knob activates a harmless visible-light setting, which may be useful as we’re going to be spending part of our time underground. Finally, the energy cells that provide power are fed in through this slot, opened by pressing the sixth knob. We are under orders to retrieve all ejected cells and bring them back with us.” Jason ignored his listeners’ expressions on hearing this, hardly the kind of order a combat infantryman wants to hear.

“As you know,” he continued, “even the standard Takashima is not a battlefield weapon; you wouldn’t want to take it up against opposition in powered combat armor. That is doubly true of this little improvisation, given the amount of power we’ve had to sacrifice on the altar of inconspicuousness. But it ought to be adequate for our needs, as any action we see should be at very short ranges.”

Da Cunha looked thoughtful. “The stunner setting ought to work particularly well on this mission. For one thing, Greece has a dry climate; as we all know, the electrical charge does stupid things in rain or even high humidity. And as we also know, metal armor conducts the charge and actually attracts it.”

“Agreed, with the caveat that our targets almost certainly won’t be wearing armor. However,” Jason continued, and his expression turned more chilling than he knew, “in the absence of orders to the contrary, your weapons should be permanently set on ‘kill.’ Remember, it’s impossible for us to bring back prisoners for interrogation, however much I’d like to. There are two exceptions to this, which I’ll get to in a few minutes.”

Jason turned toward the rear wall of the room and touched a remote-control unit. Part of the wall flickered and became a screen displaying a map of the Marathon plain. He indicated Mount Kotroni, to the northwest of the plain. “We will materialize here, a few minutes after the point in time—precisely ascertainable thanks to my recorder implant—when Alexandre and I left Pan on Mount Agriliki.” His listeners’ looks of distaste at the mention of Pan were unmistakable, though quickly smoothed over. Their orientation had included imagery of the artificially engendered hybrid being. “At that time, the Transhumanists were on their way in a Teloi aircar to take him to Mount Kotroni, overlooking the current phase of the Battle of Marathon.” He touched more controls, and color-coded battle lines appeared. “The Persians will have hastily formed a new line, adjacent to their camp, to shield the embarkation of their ships. As the Greeks—advancing slowly at this point—approach this line, the Transhumanists’ plan to induce panic in the Persians by means of a sonic projector—a technique which, as we know, is useless against modern countermeasures, but which ought to serve this purpose—while having Pan appear on the slopes about here.” He zoomed in on Kotroni and used a cursor to indicate its eastern slopes. “Our point of appearance will be here, so we can arrive unobserved by them. The element of surprise should be total.” The cursor moved a third of the way around the peak, westward, to a level area on the opposite slope.

“We will proceed around behind them and kill all Transhumanists present. I want to emphasize that Pan must not be killed or even stunned, for he is essential to the next phase of the operation. He knows how to pilot the Teloi aircar—I ascertained that before making an agreement with him. In exchange for the pharmaceutical supplies we are bringing, he will take us to Athens in the aircar, which must be a model capable of carrying several passengers, given the use the Transhumanists were making of it. There we will make our way to the cavern under the Acropolis, where more Transhumanists—probably including their leader—and the members of the cult of which you learned in your orientation will be awaiting Pan. Here we will have to play it by ear: the Transhumanists must be neutralized with as few manifestations of out-of-period technology as possible. And Pan will tell the cultists that he’s not really a god and that the Transhumanists are evil supernatural beings who have been deceiving them.”

“That might not be easy, sir,” said Logan slowly. “The ancient Greeks didn’t have ‘devils’ or ‘demons’, and none of their gods were either purely good or purely evil. They were just a kind of super-powerful immortal humans.”

“Very astute,” said Jason with a sharp look. Evidently there was more to Logan than met the eye, or the ear. Rutherford had raised the same objection. “That’s why I told Pan to use his imagination. But while awaiting retrieval on Crete I had time to think about it some more. In particular, I thought about a line of theological propaganda that the Persian commander Datis used on the Greek island of Delos on his way to Athens. There’s no point in going into the details at this time, as it would sound like mumbo-jumbo to you. As a matter of fact, it is mumbo-jumbo. But since my return, after consultation with Rutherford and various experts on the period, I think it may work. It doesn’t really fit into the conventional Greek version of metaphysics, but maybe Pan’s word will carry weight anyway. As always, flexibility and adaptability are going to have to be our watchwords.

“At any rate, afterwards we will use the small gravitically focused explosive charge we’re taking with us to seal the tunnel without doing any damage to the buildings above. The cavern will be gone, but the historically attested grotto sacred to Pan on the north slope of the Acropolis will remain. The Athenians will continue to offer annual sacrifices to Pan there, as history says they did, but the Transhumanists’ twisted cult will be aborted.

“Now, there’s one other matter—the second of the two ‘exceptions’ I mentioned in connection with weapon settings. At some point in this operation, it is highly probable that we will encounter Dr. Chantal Frey, a member of my prior expedition to this milieu. As you know from your orientation, she had her TRD surgically removed and may have defected to the Transhumanists.” Jason said this in a very even tone of voice, and he noted his listeners’ carefully neutral expressions at his choice of words. “She must not, under any circumstances, be killed. It is permissible, if the situation seems to warrant it, to stun her. I intend to bring her back with us, willingly or otherwise, by actual physical carriage just as we have always brought various items back. It is a method that has never been tried before with a human or any other living organism. In fact, the idea of doing so has never occurred to anyone before, doubtless because we’re so accustomed to thinking exclusively in terms of our standard procedures. But I am advised that it is within the bounds of theoretical possibility.

“Now, as to your TRDs. You’re probably wondering why they haven’t been implanted yet. The reason is that they’ve only just become available. They are a new model, hastily developed and rushed into production for this mission. They are somewhat larger than the standard models, but the implantation will still be a minor operation. Unlike all TRDs up until now, these are not set to activate at a pre-set moment. Instead, they are designed to activate on command. The command is transmitted through my brain implant. I will decide when we are to be retrieved.”

Da Cunha and Logan stared, for this was beyond unprecedented. “But how will anyone here know when to expect us?” Da Cunha asked.

“They won’t.” Jason permitted himself a wintery smile. “This, as we all know, would normally be out of the question due to ‘traffic control’ considerations on the displacer stage. Which, of course, is why TRDs like these have never been developed before; no one could imagine a use for them. But that issue won’t arise this time, because the stage will be kept clear until we return. Which, in turn, won’t be much of a problem because this is going to be the briefest extratemporal expedition in the entire history of the Authority. A couple of hours, if that, ought to be long enough for us to accomplish this mission, if it can be accomplished at all. And every additional minute we spend in the fifth century b.c. is just one additional chance for some kind of screw-up.

“Finally, Alexandre here is my second in command. This is due to his familiarity with the target milieu, despite his junior status in the Service. If either of you has a problem with this, now’s the time to get it off your chest.” Total silence answered him. “Very well. If there are no further questions, you are dismissed. We’ll have further briefings, and opportunities to practice with these rather unique versions of the Takashima, at a later time.”

As they filed out of the room, Mondrago lingered. “Sir, may I have a word?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, sir, about the ‘all you can conveniently carry’ rule on which you’re basing your plan to bring Dr. Frey back to our time in the linear present. . . .” Mondrago trailed to a halt, looking uncharacteristically abashed.

“Yes?” Jason prompted. “What’s the matter? You don’t think it will work?”

“I’m sure I’m not qualified to say, sir,” replied Mondrago, armoring himself in military formality. “If the experts say it will, I believe them. It just occurs to me that at the same time you’re doing it . . . well, Pan is a fairly small being, and if it works at all I ought to be able to do the same with him.”

Jason stared. “Are you saying you’ve decided you want to rescue Pan?”

“No, sir!” said Mondrago, a little too emphatically. “I’m just thinking that he might be a useful intelligence source, if we could bring him back for debriefing.”

“I see.” Jason carefully kept his face expressionless. “You know, you may have a point. I hadn’t thought my idea out to its logical conclusion. I was thinking exclusively in terms of using it for Dr. Frey, because this is her proper time. But on reflection, that shouldn’t matter; we’re always bringing inanimate objects with us from their own periods in the past this way, and they stay here. Otherwise Rutherford wouldn’t be able to keep that sword and the other souvenirs in his display case! And the experts keep telling me that whether the object is living or nonliving shouldn’t matter. I’ll tell you what: if the opportunity presents itself, without jeopardizing the success of the mission, I’ll let you make the attempt. Good enough?”

“Yes, sir.”



The time came, and the four of them filed onto the displacer stage with their “walking sticks.” They also carried in-period daggers. Logan and Mondrago also carried the kind of satchels that ancient Greeks normally carried when going on lengthy walking journeys. The former contained the explosive charge; the latter the medical supplies for Pan, just in case Mondrago’s idea didn’t work. All of them carried, in the usual sort of waist-tied wallets, a supply of the energy cells for which they were strictly accountable.

Rutherford met them at the edge of the stage for the traditional handshake. On this occasion it seemed overlaid with a new grimness. In the past there had sometimes been a possibility that Rutherford was sending time travelers into battle; this time it was a certainty. As mission leader, Jason was the last to shake hands. But at the last moment he paused.

“Ah, Kyle . . . what with one thing and another, I haven’t gotten around to asking you. But . . .?”

Rutherford’s eyes met his. “Yes. It’s still there.”

Jason nodded. No more needed to be said. He mounted the stage.